


Drain to the Stars

by Roguenauticals



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Book Shop Owner Louis, Famous Harry, M/M, Non-Famous Louis, Notting Hill AU, OT5 Friendship, also Louis wears glasses because he needs to more, movie star Harry, there will be smut I promise!, tw for some homophobic comments in later chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-21 02:29:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4811513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roguenauticals/pseuds/Roguenauticals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis lived a very quiet life at his inherited book shop in Notting Hill, until Oscar-winner Harry Styles walked through the door.</p><p> </p><p>“I-I’m so sorry—“ Louis tries to continue his apology before Harry steps into his space, crowding close and gently pressing his lips to Louis’ without a word.</p><p>Too shocked to do anything but stay in one place, Louis lets Harry mold his slightly wet lips over his. Finally closing his eyes, pulling his hand up to gently touch Harry’s cheek, lips finding more traction as he stood on his toes to kiss him back, Louis feels warmth lowering from his face down to his toes. As Harry pulls away, he rests his head on Louis'. Their eyes blink open at the same time, and the two smile, heat rising in Louis' cheeks.<br/>“I just, sorry,” Harry’s voice sounds deeper that it had been all day, and Louis wants to push that sorry as far away from this moment as possible, “I needed to know, what that would… feel like. Been wonderin’ ‘bout it.”</p><p>Harry lifts his hand to adjust Louis’ glasses, and then he lets his hand trail down his cheek. “Thank you.” His voice cuts down roughly at the end, and Louis can’t get another word in as Harry had spun and left again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, I wanted to take our amazing boys and put them into the film, while also taking some liberties. 
> 
> This fic is inspired by the movie Notting Hill, starring Julia Roberts and Hugh Grant. I take no credit for the amazing plot and influence it provided for this fic. Some of you might also recognize specific quotes; I couldn't help myself. 
> 
> I also write to music, and at the end of each chapter, I'll put the songs I listened to while messing about in the work.  
> (Also if anyone is interested, I have inspiration for each of their outfits saved in a doc on my computer)
> 
> Many many thanks to [Katy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/iamhollsteintrash/pseuds/iamhollsteintrash) for her continued support. Without her, this wouldn't have happened.

_You dressed up so nice, and all I could see was your eyes. But the crowd came and pulled you away, and then you were gone._

 

Sitting in his small travel bookstore on one of the busiest streets in Notting Hill, Louis could safely say that he had a quiet life. Having lived in London for years, he found that Notting Hill was just out of major tourist traffic while still being a part of the major city. Although Louis hadn’t traveled very much, aside from one trip to Ireland with his best friend, Niall, he found particular comfort in his travel books.

He sighs, pulling the sleeves of his red and black jumper closer to his fingertips, leaning over the worn desk to mull over a memoir about the author’s time in Argentina. While it wasn’t poorly written, Louis could tell that the author seriously needed to stop quoting _Eat, Pray, Love_ every other chapter. Skimming over yet another recipe, Louis sighed again, looking up out the front window of the store, adjusting his glasses.

A slight rain was spinning in the air outside, umbrellas beginning to swing by the dirty windows. Louis couldn’t remember the last time he actually cleaned, and as he turned to look in the front desk for some kind of sponge, Niall clambered through the front door, breathing hard and wiping rain off the steaming cups of tea.

“So! They didn’t have black, I got you green, with milk and sugar.” Niall bounds towards the front desk, bumping into the worn wooden shelves, books jumping off after him. They clatter to the floor, making Louis level Niall with a small stare as he tugs his glasses off his nose to set on the counter.

“Right. No regular black tea? In a tea shop? That we are loyal patrons of?”

“Well… They said no black in the back. Or was it green? No I’m sure it was black.” Niall pauses by the register, placing the two cups on top of the front computer. Louis hastens to grab them before they topple over, and he stands up to collect the fallen books. Niall steals his chair and leans back, propping his legs up.

“I’m quite sure it was green that I brought back…” the bleached-blonde smells the steam coming out of the plastic lid closing his eyes as he mused, ”This could actually be Breakfast.”

Louis huffs a laugh, shaking his head as replaces a large hardcover book about Spain. The book was filled to the brim with stock-photos of the countryside, like ones you’d find on postcards in a gas station. “Clichéd as fuck,” as Louis dubbed them.

“We could’ve a combo.”

Louis walked back towards Niall, picking up one of the mystery cups and inspecting its white exterior before muttering a small “cheers” and raised it to his lips.

“Never mind. It’s blueberry.” Niall smiles over the top of his cup, looking expectantly at Louis, who tried not to grimace as he placed the cup back on the counter. Blueberries, milk, and sugar definitely wasn’t enough caffeine for him.

“Incredible, Nialler, truly spectacular tea run today. I’ll go next time.”

All was silent in the shop for a minute, the two of them looking around the small store, devoid of shoppers. Louis shifts on his feet, moving towards the back to get to his accounts, before Niall exclaims,

“Oh shit, I totally forgot my wallet there! Fuck.” He was up and running out the store, arms flailing behind him, books once again falling in his wake.

Louis smiled, shaking his head. Niall had been his best friend from childhood, but he wasn’t hired for his amazing memory skills. He had been in a pinch, between girlfriends, needed a small income to support him for a while. Louis was more than happy to hire him, but that had been years ago, and now he couldn’t muster up the courage to fire him. Plus, Niall’s antics kept the store rearranged so it always looked new and fresh whenever Louis walked inside. Maybe some books got lost in the process, but Louis couldn’t complain, really. Who could say they got to work with their best friend everyday?

He bent down to grab another book towards the front, his fringe falling into his eyes. When he looks back up, a pair of black skinny jeans blocked his vision of the front door. Louis continues to look upwards, standing up to stare at the newcomer.

The man was wearing a dark jewel green coat, hung down towards the middle of his thighs, a low cut black shirt on underneath, revealing corners of tattoos. Small raindrops clung to the fabric of his shirt, the skin underneath, and Louis could swear his mouth watered a tiny bit. Feeling like he needed to apologize for kneeling on the floor, and eyeing him up like a piece of meat, Louis looks up at the man’s face. He places it immediately.

“I-I’m so sorry, I was in your way.”

Louis stands, clutching the _Great Big Travel Book on Japan_ to his chest, moving backwards a couple of steps. Harry Styles was standing in his travel bookstore. _The_ Harry Styles: international movie star, winner of two Oscars, one of which was awarded last year for his lead in the rom-com, _Here You Are Again,_ with Jennifer Lawrence. Rumored to have his hands in a sci-fi flick, Harry Styles had been plastered all over the tabloids, one of which in the store’s back bathroom. His most recent tabloid explosion spoke of the actor’s supposed time in his glass door closet. Louis suddenly felt the urge to sprint back there and flush it down the toilet.

The pictures didn’t do the star justice. His brown curly hair fell in waves around his face, normally shown in all the magazines in a loose bun at the top of his head. A pair of aviators hung on top of his head, collecting rain, the bridge of his nose still indented. His bright green eyes were wide, a smile curled around his pink lips as he gazed at Louis, who was now moving backward to the front desk.

“Don’t be.” His voice curls through the store like honey, and fuck it all if Louis doesn't immediately wonder what else that voice could sound like. Probably all gravelly when he just woke up in the morning, or it could be even deeper after he went down on someone. There was no way Louis could have dirty thoughts about a mega acting star in his travel bookshop. Or could he?

“Um. So. Can I help you find a book? We have a great new section on, Argentina?” Louis hesitantly moves his hand in the direction of a shelf, trying not to blush.

“No, thanks.” Harry’s smile seems to twitch lower, causing Louis to jump towards another section, feeling the need to impress him.

“Well, we have some others on, Italy?” He grabs a small paperback off a display, “This one’s particularly good,” he pushes through the pages, trying to keep his hands busy and his eyes off Harry, ”…Not like some of those other travel books that just have pictures, this one has a lot of in-depth writing about great quaint places to travel in…” Louis trailed off, looking back at Harry, who was holding the Spain stock-photo book in one hand, bags from another local clothing store in another.

Harry’s smile grew, looking like he was holding back a laugh. Louis struggled to respond.

“N-not that those books aren’t great as well! Y’know, all those pictures, highly informative. Very… colorful. Coffee table ornaments.” Louis tries to keep his voice from cracking.

Harry doesn't speak, instead holding onto the book as he peruses the other shelves. Just before Louis was about to make another idiotic comment, another man entered the store, seemingly unaware of Harry or the flabbergasted Louis. The man strides toward the back of the store, to the sales racks, glancing at books as he walks by.

Louis had made his way back to the register, ready to call out to offer help to the man, before he glanced at his computer to see the small sales back room security camera. The other man was standing back there, trying to push a paperback copy of _Bob’s Idiotic Guide to Ireland_ down his trousers. He checks to see Harry preoccupied by the table displays, and goes back to the sales room.

“Hi there!” Louis exclaims as he walks into the room. The man looks up from his fly, smiling at him. “Now, see, we have a small problem. I have a security camera, right there.” He points to a corner of the room.

“Oh, I see.” The man turned to look back at Louis, unconcerned with the information.

“And I saw you.” Louis vaguely moves his hand towards the other man.

“Saw me what?”

“I saw you put that book down your trousers.” Louis can swear he hears Harry sniggering from the front of the small store.

“What book?” The man looks innocently at Louis, his eyes cartoonishly big.

“Um, the one. Down your trousers.” Louis tilts his chin up to the man, who doesn't respond for a couple seconds.

“Okay, what if, hypothetically, I did have a book. Down my trousers.”

“Hm, okay. Well, ideally, you would replace _Bob’s Idiotic Guide to Ireland_ back on the shelf where it belongs. Hopefully I’ll find some hand sanitizer to clean it with later. Then you’re going to leave my store before I call someone to force you out of here.”

The man doesn't move. Louis sighs. “Right. Just remember, put the book back on my shelf. Or pay for it.”

Louis then turned on his heel, and went back to the counter, where Harry had been waiting. “Sorry ‘bout that.” Louis looks down, seeing the Spain book still sitting in Harry’s hands.

“No worries.” Harry had all silver rings on his long fingers, some more worn than others, a couple with dark blue stones set into the metal. Louis wonders why he picked those exact rings to wear, none of them seeming to match in a cohesive way.

“You’re that actor.” The man had reappeared, standing next to Harry, startling Louis.

Harry peers down at him, a small, confused grin painted on his face. “Hi?”

“Can you sign this piece of paper?” The man hands Harry the title page from _Bob’s Guide_ , which he apparently had ripped out of the book. Louis felt the urge to both punch the man in front of him, and also hug Harry for not being an asshole to the other guy.

“Sure. Who should I make it out to?” Harry grabs a pen from the counter. “Will.” All was silent for a second as Harry wrote on the page.

Will smiles as he looked at the piece of paper when Harry was done. “What does it say?”

“Well, there’s my name, and above it I wrote: To Will,” Harry paused, glancing at Louis to smile, “Stop tearing pages out of books.”

Will responds with a loud chortle, “Ah, good one.” Louis shakes his head, “Hey, can I give you my number? I’m an actor too.” Will looks at Harry expectantly.

“Hm. Tempting. But a resounding, no.” Harry shoots back before Louis can blink, and Will scurries out of the shop without another word.

Louis turned back to Harry. “So, this one, then?”

Harry nods, sliding the book forward. Louis continues to speak as he rings him out, “Good choice, not like those other books with quaint travel stories. Picture’s worth a thousand words, and all that.”

He handed the bag to Harry, whose fingers brushed over his as he gripped the handle. “Thanks.”

“Pleasure.” Louis watches as Harry slings his aviators over his bright eyes, and he catches the edge of a toothy grin before the star walked back out of the store, into the gloomy London day.

Louis was still watching the front door when Niall came running back in, to hop on the counter. “Man, you’ll never guess who I saw walking by!”

He sits down heavily in his chair, still staring out the window, putting his glasses on again. “Who?”

Niall had managed to procure a scone on his second journey, and he spoke excitedly through mouthfuls, “Huge crowd of people around this black car, probably a movie star. There was security around and everything. Probably Madonna or someone. Could you imagine, Madonna, right outside our store?! Wish she could’ve come inside.”

All was silent for a minute. Then Louis spoke, getting back up again.

“I need something to eat, want anything?”

“Yeah, grab me a coke or summat? That tea was shit.”

“Right—I’ll be back.” Louis dashed out of the store. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote at the top was from the song, "I Don't Even Know Your Name," by Shawn Mendes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Put Harry and Louis in an apartment alone, and stuff is bound to happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your kind words and kudos!

_I could not ask you where you came from, I could not ask and neither could you. Honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips, we could just kiss like real people do._

 

Louis turns around the corner, holding an open can of coke in one hand, and a small sandwich in the other, wondering how he was going to make himself eat food after his embarrassing interaction with Harry Styles. It was still raining slightly, making the Notting Hill homes lose their usual bright pastel light. Despite this, Louis loved the rain in London, loved the way the streets seemed to glow with the water on the pavement. He always thought things shone brighter in the rain.

Lost in thought about green eyes, Louis didn’t notice another person rounding the corner, and walking right in his path. The two crashed into each other, the open can of coke pouring onto both of them, sandwich falling out in the street.

“Fuck,” Louis exclaims, looking straight into familiar eyes, “Oh, hi. Shit I’m so sorry.”

“Oops.” Harry looked down at his now ruined shirt, then back at Louis, “S’kay, I just can’t… find my car,” He checks back down the street, wiping slightly at his coat.

“Let me—don’t you have a cell?” Louis eyes the road too, but nothing is in sight. Niall must have seen the car before it took off, looking for Harry.

“Left it at the hotel today, wanted to just, get away from people, y’know?” Harry looks at Louis, smiling slightly.

They were standing so close that Louis could see small flecks of brown in his eyes. He adjusts his glasses, which had been sliding down his nose, and pats his pockets, realizing he left his cell at home.  

“Look, my house is literally right down the block, I’ve got a phone, and hopefully some baking soda or something to get the stain out. I promise I’m not being creepy or anything, but I feel awful for your coat.” Louis points down the street as the words come spilling out of his mouth.

“You’re not a serial killer, are you?” Harry looks down the street and back at Louis, raindrops starting to draw small lines down his face.

“I promise, I’m so normal and so not a serial killer. It’s the house with the bright blue door, you can see it from here.” Louis continues to point, Harry hesitates, then moves closer to Louis and looks down his arm.

Louis tries not to breathe with Harry so close to him, noticing how much smaller he is than the superstar actor. He can smell something akin to a floral undertone to the earthy cologne, pulling Louis even closer to him. Harry moved back slightly, looking at Louis and nodding.

They walked over quickly, Louis struggling with his keys for a moment before letting Harry into the apartment. Brightly lit, the front hall pulled the two men to the back, with huge windows opening up to views of the tops of other London apartments. Small plants were dotted around the kitchen and living room, worn leather couches and chairs semi-circled the TV. The kitchen, while not at its cleanest, had white cabinets, small magnets dotted the refrigerator, and multitudes of empty tea mugs hung off a rack, each with little sayings that Zayn found at flea markets around the city.

“So, um, bathroom is just up those stairs on the second floor, there should be some baking soda… right here.” Louis hands him the box, watches Harry as he disappears up the stairs, before he goes dashing around the first level.

Louis pushed dishes into the dishwasher, and adjusted plants as he threw Zayn’s unused joints into a small box on the kitchen table. Lastly, he found a tabloid magazine on the coffee table in the living room, and tossed it in the trash just as Harry came back down.

Harry, wearing a white and black striped shirt, which was barely buttoned past the navel. Louis can now clearly see the outline of a bird on Harry’s left pec, and what looked like antennas of a butterfly right in the middle of his chest. He wants to see if he had other tattoos, but Harry started to shrug back on his coat, the coke spot now just wet down with water. Louis wonders how much that coat had cost.

“Thanks—for letting me use your bathroom. Is your phone…?” Harry trails off, looking around the room, smiling at the large windows.

“Yeah, right here,” Louis pulls a phone from the kitchen, the cord running across the island and knocking over the saltshaker. Harry giggles as he dials, “Haven’t updated from the ‘90s, have we?” He puts his ear up to the receiver.

“I still have a noika around here somewhere…” Louis smiles, Harry’s eyes lighting up again before the other person presumably picks up.

After a moment, Louis motions to Harry that he was going upstairs, and dashes to the third floor to his room. Throwing off the gross jumper, he runs to his closet to find another before Harry mysteriously disappears. He didn’t hear quiet footsteps approach the door, or the small knock that sounded after.

“Hey, I’m all…” Harry entered the room just as Louis was pulling a grey jumper down his chest, “… done.” Louis turns, a small noise of surprise echoing across the room. He pulls the edges of sweater down onto his jeans, smoothing the edges and pushing his hands into the sleeves.

Louis watches Harry looking around, taking in his unmade platform bed, the bookshelves stacked with footie biographies and leftover travel books, the TV on top of the tall dresser in the corner, and the large windows that looked out onto the main Notting Hill street.

“Right. Um,” Louis stutters, looking at Harry, shoving a black beanie on his head and adjusting his glasses, “Well, I can… make you tea?”

Harry nods mutely, and the two make their way awkwardly back to the kitchen, Harry opting to sit at the counter while Louis puts the kettle on.

“So,” Harry pauses as Louis sits down, “I’ve, actually not gotten your name yet.”

Louis laughes, a short burst of noise, making Harry smile.

“You entered a potential serial killer’s flat without knowing his name? Gullible one you are…” Louis chides, “Louis Tomlinson.” He extends his hand across the table, taking Harry’s large one in his own.

“Harry Styles.” Sparks shoot up his arm, warming his cheeks.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Louis wills himself not to turn red. Actors talked with other attractive actors all the time. Louis could talk to one of the most beautiful ones… hopefully… without getting a hard on.

The tea kettle starts to shriek, and Louis hops up, “Black, green, breakfast?”

“Green’s perfect.”

Harry had appeared next to him, grabbing a mug with the inscription, “My puns are koala tea,” and watching as Louis poured the steaming water over the bag.

“Took my favorite mug.” Louis mutters and Harry giggles, walking back to put the mug on the table.

Louis pushed his hips into the counter, watching Harry close his eyes and breathe in the tea. A comfortable silence rang between the two men, the rain pattering against the windows. Louis is afraid to look away from Harry, in case he had somehow been dreaming, and would wake up alone if he so much as blinked wrong.

“So. Why a travel bookshop exclusively?” Harry’s eyes peek out from behind the mug.

Louis takes some time before answering, “Well, I mean. I’ve never really travelled, never had the funds between me five sisters and mum. But I worked at this shop while in uni, and the owner wanted to retire a couple years ago. He gave the place to me, told me it would pay rent. Didn’t have any other jobs once I graduated. Now, I guess I… travel in books.”

Harry stares at him for a moment, making no move to speak, Louis shifting under his eyes. The phone rings, causing Harry to twitch in the seat, and blink for a few seconds. Louis grabs the phone, listening to the gruff voice on the other side.

“Your car’s outside.”

Harry gulped the rest of the tea, opening his mouth into a wide O and letting the steam fly out, his lips stretched wide. Louis almost drops the phone, watching Harry’s lips curl back into a smile. “Really good tea, thanks, Louis.” Harry’s voice swings over the harsh I at the end of the name, and Louis wonders what god he would have to thank for letting Harry Styles enter his life for these short twenty minutes.

He walked Harry to the front door, pausing in the frame.

“Well this was nice. Surreal, but nice.” Louis stutters again, holding his hand out for Harry, which was received after a short moment. “Likewise.”

And without another breath, Harry walked out the door, leaving Louis standing in his entryway, alone. Holding his head in one hand, Louis starts to move back towards his kitchen, the door sliding shut, intending to lay on the couch for a while and mull over his inability to converse with people, let alone a famous actor, when there was a soft knock at the door.

“Fuck, Zayn, did you forget your fookin’ keys again?” Louis jogs back to the door, swinging it open to yell at his roommate, when he's met once again with soft green eyes.

“I-I’m so sorry—“ Louis tries to continue his apology before Harry steps into his space, crowding close and gently pressing his lips to Louis’ without a word.

Too shocked to do anything but stay in one place, Louis lets Harry mold his slightly wet lips over his. Finally closing his eyes, pulling his hand up to gently touch Harry’s cheek, lips finding more traction as he stood on his toes to kiss him back, Louis feels warmth lowering from his face down to his toes. As Harry pulls away, he rests his head on Louis'. Their eyes blink open at the same time, and the two smile, heat rising in Louis' cheeks.

“I just, sorry,” Harry’s voice sounds deeper that it had been all day, and Louis wants to push that sorry as far away from this moment as possible, “I needed to know, what that would… feel like. Been wonderin’ ‘bout it.”

Harry lifts his hand to adjust Louis’ glasses, and then he lets his hand trail down his cheek. “Thank you.” His voice cuts down roughly at the end, and Louis can’t get another word in as Harry had spun and left again.

This time, Louis couldn’t move from the door, falling back into the wall and locking his knees to stay in place, his hand on his lips. Zayn then chose to walk into the flat a couple minutes later, a whiff of pot flowing behind his faux-hawk.

“Lou, how we doin’?” Zayn closes the door behind him, the slam pulling Louis from his reverie.

Zayn made his way up into the kitchen, grabbing a bag of crisps from a cabinet and settling down on the couch. Louis stumbles forward, picking up his untouched tea from the counter.

“Y’know, I would tell ya, but even I won’t believe it.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics were from the song, "Like Real People Do," by Hozier.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Zayn, whom Louis would prefer to never take his phone messages, ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! I've been completely floored by all your awesome comments and kind kudos! Thank you so much for reading, and feel free to find me on tumblr at roguenauticals if you want to drop me a line. 
> 
> I realized after writing chapters 3 & 4 that I had been in the wrong tense for most of the story, so I am currently fixing the past chapters, in order to make everything match. Thanks for sticking with me!
> 
> This is just a small chapter to introduce us to the next, which will be much longer and will be posted in the next couple of days. Lots of Love!

_I had the strangest feeling; your world’s not all it seems. So tired of misconceiving what else this could’ve been. I don’t even know if I believe._

 

Although Louis wanted something to happen in the days after kissing Harry, life played a cruel trick of excruciating normalcy. He went to his travel book shop every morning, and despite looking up whenever a person entered the store, Harry never appeared. The shop still looked the same, his tea still had the same bitter taste, and Louis still couldn’t get Harry out of his head.

Nor could he really escape him either; buses plastered with Harry’s face drove all around London, commercials were always on TV, even the fucking radio aired interviews with the star. Louis felt like he was being constantly mocked by Harry’s face, his lips.

Louis couldn’t really tell anyone what happened, because who could believe him? Zayn, who walked in five minutes after the star had left, had been too high to notice Harry, even if the star had kissed him on the way out too. Niall would probably laugh before regaling Louis with his interaction with Rory McIlroy in a gas stop two years ago (Louis has heard the story thirty times). And Liam, Zayn’s boyfriend, would be too concerned with the mere fact that Harry Styles was a _real_ human, rather than some fictional character from his movies, that Louis wouldn’t be able to get a word in edgewise. So Louis just let himself think that he had somehow been having a really interactive dream, or worst case scenario, Niall had given him a roofie in the blueberry tea, which gave him the most horrible hallucinations, and tried to put the event to the farthest corner of his mind.

He locked the shop door early on Friday, said goodbye to Niall, and headed home, the sun high in the sky. It cast a shadow on half of the street, cars blinking by on the busy road. The pastel houses seemed duller, even with the sun lighting up the windows like fireflies. Louis walked the short block to his flat, avoiding the puddle that always pooled right at the bottom of the stairs to his front door.

“Zayn?” He calls through the kitchen, tossing his shoes off and walking out onto the patio to settle onto a lounge chair, facing the sun.

“Hey bro,” Zayn walks out of the house behind him, tossing Louis a beer and settling next to him in another chair, “Short day at work?”

“It was time for the weekend,” Louis takes a swig, closing his eyes and letting the sun beat down on him, “You been home?”

“Yeah, Li took half the day off, so we went out earlier to brunch, but then he had to go in to work.”

“Aren’t you two disgustingly adorable.”

“We fucking try to be.”

The two went silent for a second, far-off sounds of London traffic buzzing through their ears.

“You had someone really odd call you today on the house phone…” Zayn trails off, taking a deep drag of his beer, “…Some bloke named Harry, then he talked ‘bout Rapunzel. Dunno, he was blathering ‘bout the Ritz too, guy seemed weird.”

Louis bolts up in his chair, the beer toppling on the ground, Zayn barely reacting to the sudden movement. “You’re sure, his name was Harry?”

“Yeah, what kind of lads do you pick up nowadays—“ Zayn’s voice cut off as Louis sprints into the house, ripping the phone off the wall.

“What’s the fucking number for the Ritz? Shit.” Louis tugs on Zayn’s laptop from the kitchen table, brushing dust off the keys.

“Lou?” Zayn had ambled back into the flat, settling down at the table, and reaching into his box for a joint. “Think you’re getting your panties in a twist over some rich dude, who talks about Disney princesses way too seriously.”

Louis waves his arms frantically at Zayn, who had the good sense to shut up. Everything felt still to him as the phone rung. Even if he didn’t get to talk to Harry, it was still kind of awesome that he called. _But why had he called?_

“Hello, you’ve reached the front desk at the Ritz Carlton, London. This is Rufus speaking. How may I help you?”

“Right, yes, hi. I’m Louis, trying to get in contact with Harry? Harry Styles? I believe he talked to my slow flatmate and I’m afraid I didn’t get the m-message until now.” Louis attempts to speak as Zayn throws matches at his forehead.

“I’m sorry, sir. But there is nobody staying here under that name.”

“Shit—" Louis looks up at Zayn as Rufus coughs on the other line, “You’re positive?”

“Yes, sir, I’m quite sorry. Is there another name I could connect you to?”

“Rapunzel!” Zayn whisper-shouts, his eyes half-open as he breathes in the smoke, “The bloke insisted he was called Rapunzel, but his name was Harry!”

Louis stares at him, then hesitantly speaks back into the phone, “This is going to sound odd, but is there a Rapunzel, staying in your hotel?”

“Ah, yes sir. I will patch you through directly.” The line starts to ring again.

Cursing softly, Louis runs his hand through his hair, pushing his glasses up to keep the fringe from falling. He starts to pace the floor as the phone continues to ring.

“Hi?” Harry’s deep voice sounds over the line. Louis almost drops the phone.

“Oh gods, that actually worked,” Harry giggles at Louis’ stumbled words, “Its Louis, the guy that sold you that horrible book about Spain the other day? Sorry, my flatmate doesn’t know how to take messages.”

“No worries, Louis.” Harry’s voice tugged on the vowels again, Louis feels his knees go a little weak, “I actually wanted to see you, didn’t know if you’d be workin’ again today.”

“Y—you wanted to see me. Right,” Louis mentally chides himself. He had to get his shit together, “Maybe I could pop over later for tea, or something?”

Louis didn’t have time to stop the question from coming out of his mouth before Harry agrees, giving him the address of the hotel.

“Looking forward to it,” the phone on Harry’s end rustled, like he was sitting on his bed, “Didn’t know if I’d get a chance to see you again.”

“Likewise.” Louis smiles, holding the phone tighter to his ear. Zayn makes a kissy sound, prompting Louis to grab a discarded match and swing it back at his flatmate.

They hang up a moment later, Louis pushing the phone back on the wall before grabbing the joint out of Zayn’s hand and taking a long pull. “Fuck, what am I gonna wear?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of the song is, "Believe," by Mumford & Sons.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis ends up at the Ritz-Carlton London to meet with Harry, and is met with the unexpected, as usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> Once again, thank you SO MUCH for all of your comments and kudos, I really appreciate all of you stopping by to read my small story.
> 
> Hopefully the length of this chapter makes up for the ch. 3 filler.
> 
> If you want to drop by and talk with me, I'm at roguenauticals on tumblr.

_You ain’t alone, so why you lonely? Are you scared what somebody’s gon’ think?_

Stupidly, Louis picked up flowers on his mad dash to the Ritz. It wasn’t anything special; just a sad-looking bouquet that had cost him 5 pounds, a fucking rip-off, but a moment of romantic inspiration hit as he ran out of the Green Park underground.

He walked by shuffling groups of tourists who had stopped underneath the arches to snap photos. Distracted momentarily by the large crowd of paps waiting by the front, Louis sidestepped security with a nod before walking inside. Apparently, the tweed blazer made him look posh enough to belong in the Ritz. He felt anything but.

Thankfully, the front desk didn’t see him shaking, or notice the quiver in his voice, and sent him up the penthouse, which had been reserved for “Rapunzel”.

Louis stepped into the elevator, calming the racing thoughts in his head, and made his best effort to keep himself from ruining his sad-looking bouquet, before he made it to Harry. A woman stepped onto the elevator after him, but didn’t press any of the buttons.

They start to go up, Louis’ lungs squishing onto his stomach. He tries to breathe, wringing his hands over the stems of the flowers, and glances over at the other woman, looking at her phone. She’s shifting on her feet, humming softly as her thumbs brush across the screen. Louis wonders why she hasn’t pushed a button yet, if she knows where she’s going. _What if she’s some maniac fan? Like one of those that wants to sleep with, or even murder movie stars?_ Louis looks at her again. She’s wearing an expensive-looking pantsuit and sky-high pumps, a sleek black briefcase placed in the corner of the elevator. _Not a fan, then. More assassin like. Should I toss myself in front of her as the door opens, screaming for Harry?_ Louis moves slightly towards the elevator door.

He feels his body start to tense as they reach the penthouse with a small ding, which echoes in the small elevator space. The woman sighs, picking up her briefcase, continuing to type on her phone. Louis is now almost pressed against the door, falling slightly forward as it opens. Laughter and loud talking push into his ears, and Louis looks around the marble foyer of the penthouse suite, accosted by the smell of multiple types of flowers. A flash of red hair tugs at Louis’ eyes, and he turns to find a woman, smartly dressed in black, wearing an earpiece and holding a clipboard.

“Names, then?” She looks expectantly at Louis, stumbling for words and his footing.

“Martha King, from the Daily Mail.” The elevator woman speaks clearly, enunciating her name.

He feels two sets of eyes on him, and Louis manages to take a breath before grimacing, “Right, um. Louis Tomlinson… uh—“

He looks around the room, portraits of old dead white aristocrats staring back at him, placed on their painted estates, watching over polished dark furniture from their crimson walls. He felt more out of place than ever.

“And you’re from, what magazine?” The redhead looks through her clipboard, pushing papers, her arched brows furrowed to create a small wrinkle on her forehead.

“Yes, right. I’m from… Travel, UK?” His voice squeaks up a notch, and Louis hastily coughs. _Is that even a mag?_

The two women stare at him for another long moment. He continues, “Uh, I think Harr—Mr. Styles, might be, expecting me?” Redhead glances through her papers once again. Louis holds his breath.

“Well, let me go check with him, Mr. Tomlinson. If you two could wait in the lounge with the others, I’ll be back shortly.” And with a curt nod, she’s gone.

_Others?_ Louis follows his elevator-mate through an archway into a large room filled with windows, looking out onto Green Park. Multitudes of reporters mill about the room, sitting on the white sofas and chatting, the smell of aftershave and perfume overwhelming Louis.

Dumbfounded, he sits right by an end table, yellow lilies bursting from a glass vase. Lying his small set of flowers next to him, Louis puts his head in his fringe for a moment, messing with the product he had slammed in before running out of the flat.

Zayn had made fun of him, laughing in the doorway to the bathroom, and exclaiming that Louis “didn’t need that much product or cologne unless he was going to tea with the queen.” Louis had snapped back that the queen was just across the park in case he and Harry ended up there later in the day. Louis had still been under the dumb impression that he would somehow be alone with Harry. In what world did he think that an actor like Harry Styles would be alone, let alone with Louis?

Zayn still had no clue who Harry was; Louis didn’t want to give up the secret yet, plus there wasn’t anything to tell. Two people who had kissed once could have tea together without causing scandal, right? It wasn’t like they were friends or anything, just acquaintances that liked to kiss. Or, at least, Louis liked the kissing.

Minutes pass by, Louis fidgeting awkwardly on the couch, trying to will his body to relax. Other reporters mill about the room, making no move to speak to Louis, but glancing his way every so often. Louis realizes that bringing a sad-looking bouquet of flowers probably stands out more than his jacket, with sleeves that hit just a bit too long on his arms, and pants rolled up to reveal his ankles. He looks like the most casually-dressed up person in a sea of pantsuits and professional wear.

“Mr. Tomlinson?” Louis pulls his head from his hand, where he was leaning against the table. He cranes his head to find the redhead at another doorway to the lounge.

“You can follow me.”

Winding their way through the numerously lavish rooms of the penthouse, Louis frantically tries to remember how to get back to the elevator, in case of a quick escape. They pass by two rather large-looking bodyguards, standing outside a white pocket door, giving Louis pause.

“Hugh Grant, another one of the actors in the movie.” The redhead continues to speak as Louis rushes to catch up to her, his head whipping back towards the bodyguards before the turn the corner.

He’s about to ask if they can run back to Hugh Grant’s room so he can get a quick autograph, before reaching the end of a large hallway, where the redhead opens a door, motioning Louis inside. “You’ve got five minutes.”

“Um, miss? I think there’s been a mista—“ Louis cuts himself off as the door shuts with a small click, finding Harry seated directly in front of him.

Harry, wearing a pale yellow short-sleeve shirt, black kerchief tied around his neck, his legs encased in black skinny jeans, draped off the green loveseat like grapevines. Pale pink wallpaper plays off the small dark green accentuated furniture and huge drapes covering floor-to-ceiling windows. Even more flowers, of all colors, are dotted around the room, making Louis hide his bouquet behind his back. A big smile beams from Harry’s face, as he stands, brushing his hands on his pants before moving forward. Louis can swear he’s just seen what spring looks like in human form.

“Louis.” Harry takes another step closer, leaning forward, brushing his lips to Louis’ cheek. Louis actually stops breathing. “—‘M so sorry, thought we would be done with this madness by the time you got here, but that’s press for ya.” Louis feels Harry’s hand wrap around his, tugging him gently to a chair, then sits across from him.

“Hi—Hey. Sorry, am I early?” Louis can still feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest. _Calm the fuck down._

“No,” Harry pauses to laugh, the ring from his voice tinkling in the airy room, “You’re… perfect.”

Louis’ cheeks heat up, and he glances down, running his hand through his fringe, pushing his glasses into place on his nose. “Not so bad there yourself, Harold.”

Harry giggles, pausing a moment, Louis desperately wants him to keep laughing, just to hear the noise, “You know Harold isn’t my actual name?”

“Sounds just as good,” Louis leans back a little in the chair, trying to get comfortable, but he falls into the flowers.

Pulling his sad bouquet out from his back, he starts speaking, “I, erm—bought you these…” Harry’s eyes light up, “Know they’re not as nice as some of the others you got lying around, but, uh—“

“No, no—Louis, you’re… they’re… so sweet. Thanks, I’ll put them in this vase.” Harry gently takes the flowers from his hand, unwrapping them carefully into a crystal vase that looks like it’s worth more than the travel bookshop in Notting Hill. Louis can’t help but smile.

“So, what movie are we promoting now?” Louis tugs his blazer buttons so the jacket opens up onto his t-shirt, feeling his chest expand. He relaxes slightly into the hard couch.  

“Oh, yeah. Right, my movie. It’s a sci-fi, ‘bout getting trapped in space, or something.”

“Man, Harold. Forget your cell, can’t remember the plot of the movie you last acted in, I guess the tabloids are right… you’re losing it, buddy.” Louis speaks more quickly as the sarcasm drips from his tongue, making Harry laugh again.

“Stop the presses, I need to get top Travel UK writer Louis Tomlinson to do a full page spread. ‘Harry Styles: failing actor.’ It’ll blow up travel mags all over the world.” Louis snorts, the sound echoing in the room, causing Harry to laugh louder. “God, I haven’t laughed in a long time.”

“There are probably millions of people in the world who would want to make you laugh, Harold.”

“Yeah, but they’d probably want something from me in return. Don’t make too many friends... in my line of work.”

Calm settles over them after a moment. Louis can make out small particles of dust falling in the air through patches of sunlight. Harry shifts in the chair, folding his legs under him, looking completely at ease in the sun-spotlight, a small smile still playing around his lips. 

Harry breaks the silence, “Enough of my sob story. Look, I wanted to, um, talk to you ‘bout the other day…”

Awkwardness starts to creep in under the door; Louis feels a shiver at the base of his spine, thinking about their kiss.

“Well, ‘m not going to talk to anyone… if that’s what you’re worried about?” Louis’ brow furrows as he tries to respond, Harry shaking his head slightly, his curly hair pressing softly against his temples.

“The kissing thing… I wanted to apologize. Didn’t mean to take you by surprise.” He tugs at the necktie, pulling it off and looping his hair up into a bun at the top of his head, breaking eye contact with Louis.

“Y-you didn’t. It was a good surprise. Like a dream.” The words spill out of Louis before he can think them through. This keeps happening to him when he’s around Harry.

Harry smiles slightly, blinking a couple of times before leaning forward, placing his hands on he coffee table between them. “Well, what happens next in the dream?”

Louis leans forward, his hands in between Harry’s on the table. Their faces come closer together; Louis can discern the separate eyelashes on his face, then focuses on Harry’s lips.

“Well, in the dream, of course, we’d pick up where we left off—“ All is still for a moment, Harry’s eyes on Louis. His glasses start to fog up, and his breath hitches as he feels a soft brush of Harry’s lips.

A knock sounds at the door, and the two break apart quickly before the redhead comes clicking into the room. “Got everything you need, Mr. Tomlinson?”

Louis lets out a small breath, looking at Harry’s red cheeks and barely contained smile. “Nearly.”

He stands, and tears himself away from Harry to walk towards the door, adjusting his glasses. The redhead starts to move down the hall, enough time for Harry to reach Louis before he can leave.

“Mr. Tomlinson, a pleasure.” Harry’s grinning as he extends his hand out, and Louis feels a piece of paper on his palm as they shake, his smile growing wider. “I’ll keep my eye out for your piece in Travel UK.”

“Mr. Styles, thank you for your illuminating answers to my questions.” Louis bites the inside of his cheek, pushing the small piece of paper into his pocket before turning and following the redhead.

He glances back once before going out of sight of Harry, and sees him looking back, hand on the back of his neck, like he’s in an ad for some high-end clothing line. Harry raises his hand in a wave, and Louis can’t help but wave back, feeling like an idiot, but he can’t stop his smile.

After thanking the redhead for her time, Louis shakes his head as he gets back on the elevator, pulling the paper out from his pocket and unwrapping it.

_“_ Harry ‘Harold’ Styles” He reads aloud, a grin creeping back on his face as he programs the number into his phone. He adds a kissing emoji next to the name, too.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from, "You Ain't Alone" by the Alabama Shakes.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liam, Zayn, and Niall finally meet Harry... and realize that they should've gotten his last name first. Also featuring a lot of paps, nervous texts, and a nice end-of-date jog.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't thank y'all enough for all your encouragement. I also have to apologize for making you wait this long--I'm in the middle of becoming a real adult, and planning all the other things that come with new jobs, new places to live, and the like. 
> 
> So to makeup to all of you, this chapter is extra long, and can hopefully tide you over until I get the next one out. In case you were wondering, Trailer Happiness is a real pub off Portobello Road, a couple blocks from where the actual Notting Hill apartment was filmed. Trying to keep with movie canon here!
> 
> Again, thank you for everything: the kudos, the reviews, the hits. I love and appreciate it!
> 
> Also, if you can't tell, Louis' texts are underlined, and Harry's are bolded. 
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at roguenauticals with any questions or comments!

_You and I, learning to speak with kisses on cheeks; if I fall for you,_

_will you fall for me too?_

After twenty minutes of listening to his “pump up” playlist on Spotify (with too many repeats of Beyonce’s “Partition” as he danced in front of the mirror) Louis finally texted Harry the day after their encounter at the Ritz. He did it just as he was leaving the flat for the short walk to the shop, nervously fiddling with his keys outside before checking his phone again. In the thirty seconds that the message, Hey, it’s Louis. was sent out into the void, Harry didn’t respond.

The sun was shining through the groups of trees on Portobello road, casting dapples on the ground. Louis usually stopped to take photos of Notting Hill’s changing seasons, loving the different types of people that appeared on the famous street, especially during market season. He couldn’t bring himself to pause today, instead hurrying along, trying not to look at his phone.

By the time he makes it to the shop, he feels like ages have passed since he first sent the text, realizing that he left his tea on the counter at home, to go cold without ever touching his lips. He slumps in the chair at the desk, adjusting his glasses and checking his phone again. Niall bounds into the shop, tea bouncing out of his un-topped cup, splashing some of the books on the desk, and hops onto another table. Louis can’t help but smile, thinking that some of those books might do better with some tea stain on their covers.

“Hey, Lou, “ Niall shifts on the table, which makes a horrible creaking noise, “there’s some stuff in the accounts that you need to go over… mate are you okay?”

Louis is staring at his blank phone again.

Niall coughs after a moment, making Louis glance back up, “Fuck, yeah, sorry, I’m just… expecting a text.”

He shifts off the table, leaning forward as Louis’ phone buzzes. “Well, there ya go.”

Louis doesn’t hear him, unlocking the phone and opening the reply.

 **Hi! Was wondering when you’d finally text me** **  
**

Emboldened by the response, Louis shoots back a response without hesitating.

Harold, I had to wait the requisite 24 hours. its in the courtships rule

**Oh, so we’re dating now?**

Louis’ mind stutters. The world halts, just for a moment, around him. Not quite sure how to tackle Harry Styles, his sort-of-not-really-kissing-movie-star-person, he tries to come up with a witty response. His phone buzzes again.

**lol, have you finished flipping out yet? ;-)**

definitely wasn’t flipping out. I don’t flip out. 

**mhm. sure**

With the walls of physical awkwardness taken away, Louis felt a little more at ease texting Harry. He didn’t have to be constantly aware of Harry’s eyes on him, on Harry’s hands touching his sides at inopportune times. He could just send his thoughts over to him, like he would any other person.

Within the hours of working at the shop, Louis and Harry didn’t break from their messaging. As if ice was cracking on a melting lake, the two let the water of their conversation rush the day. It wasn’t until Harry asked Louis what he was doing for the night that Louis felt tension creeping up the small of his back. He unlocked the door before sending a reply.

Well, a couple of mates and I were gonna go out for a pint 

**That sounds awesome…**

Louis paused for a moment outside the door to the flat. If Harry said no, Louis would be devastated, and bemoan the fact that he can’t even get a guy he’s been chatting up all day to grab a quick drink. On the other hand, if he didn’t invite Harry, he would probably enjoy himself with his friends… and be on his phone with Harry the whole night, regretting his decision. He drafts the text about five times before coming up with:

Youre more than welcome to join

Unlocking the door, Louis walks inside, dragging his feet up the stairs to his bathroom. He tries not to look at his phone as he undresses to hop in the shower. It buzzes just as he puts a foot in the steaming water.

**Yeah! love to. What time and where?**

 

8 pm comes quicker than Louis likes, as he stands outside “Trailer Happiness” a pub just off Portebello Road that he usually frequented with Liam, Zayn, and Niall. The summer air was cool, not odd for London, but enough to keep Louis shivering in his sheer black t-shirt as he cranes his head down the street again. He was nervous Harry would appear with fans surrounding him, although the movie star had assured him that he would be discreet in making his way over. Louis seriously doubted that an Oscar-winner could be discreet, but he had been proven pessimistic before… especially when he thought that Harry Styles would never text him back.

There weren’t that many people out this early either, making Harry’s entrance even less likely to be discovered. Louis had reserved a booth in a corner of the pub as well, the dark corner lit by small red lanterns that decorated the Polynesian-themed bar. The rest of the boys were inside; Niall slurping on some pink rum-infused drink, Liam chugging a glass of wine, and Zayn sipping on a beer, his arm slung around his boyfriend. They still only knew Harry as _Harry_ , not with his last name.

Louis caught sight of Harry as he stepped out of a cab down the block from the pub, shades thrown over his eyes, hair swinging around his face. A dark blue and maroon button down covered his torso, mostly unbuttoned so Louis could see the butterfly again, shining out from his slightly-tanned skin. Harry burst into a huge smile when he caught sight of Louis, extending his long legs further in order to reach him in two steps.

“Hey, you.” Harry kisses Louis on the cheek, before sweeping him into a hug, squeezing tight.

“Hi—“Louis finally feels warm, his cheeks burning, hesitantly letting his hands sit on Harry’s back, “—so, erm. We’re just inside, here.” He reluctantly pulls away, staying in the same spot on the street.

“You’re not wearing your glasses.” Harry’s looking down, letting his hands rest on Louis’ hips.

“Yeah, well. Guess you must be important, fer me to put on me contacts.” Louis lets his eyes look at the pavement for a moment before checking back at the outside of the bar.

Louis glances back to Harry, who looks a little less like a movie star, and a little more like a date about to meet the friends for the first time. Harry takes a small breath in as Louis grabs his hand, clasping tightly and letting a grin peer around his lips.

“Thanks, for coming. Means a lot.”

Harry smiles, “Jesus, wasn’t this nervous until I got here.”

“I promise they won’t bite.” Louis tugs on Harry’s hand, continuing to speak as they enter the dimly lit bar, “Me, on the other hand…” He hears Harry giggle behind him.

They make their way back, Louis seeing only Liam at the booth, who waves at him before glancing at his phone.

“Li—“Louis keeps Harry behind him until they reach the table, “—this is Harry.”

Liam looks up as Harry walks out behind Louis, “Hi Harry—“ His eyes bug out from his head as realization sweeps his features, his hand outstretched and trembling across the table, “—Styles. Harry Styles. Holy.”

Harry smiles, letting go of Louis’ to take Liam’s hand. “Hey, Liam.” He pushes his sunglasses up to the top of his head. “Is that the update for the footie game tonight?”

Harry slides into the booth next to Liam, all appearance of nerves forgotten as the two look at his phone. Louis can see Liam trying very hard not to explode. Or implode. Or both.

“Hey lads. This the Harry we’ve all been hearing about?” Niall appears from the direction of the bar, sliding on the other side of Liam and looking at Harry quizzically.

Harry smiles over to Niall, who, once seeing his face clearly, exclaims, “Oh holy fuck!”

Liam grimaces, his eyes flickering to Louis, who runs his hands through his hair and tries not to blush.

“Niall, hi. Heard a lot about your escapades at the shop.” Harry leans across the table, his hand taken immediately.

“Harry Styles, oh wow.” Niall’s gushing, and now Louis feels the heat rise in his cheeks as he slides into the booth, “I’ve seen all your movies and I just have to say, that I think we could be the best of friends, and now we have that opportunity.”

Harry pushes his lips together as he smiles, looking unsure of what to say. “Well, I think we’re off to a great start, you seeing my movies and all that.”

Niall sputters, grabbing his drink and slurping on the straw, eyes still wide as he takes in Harry. Louis feels Harry lean back into the booth, pushes into his side. He turns to him, “Want me to grab you a dink?”

“Anything with rum. Or some form of vodka.” Louis starts to slide back out before Harry pushes closer, “Am I doing okay?”

“You’re wonderful. Gonna be good without me here?” Harry’s smile is back, and he winks before turning back to Liam to talk football again. Louis wonders if Harry’s ever seen footie, or if the question, “So, who are we rooting for tonight?” is his attempt to talk sports with some of the largest West Bromwich and Ireland fans in the UK. As he winds through the small crowd to the bar, he looks to see if anyone’s noticed Harry, but everyone seems normal. Louis feels anything but.

By the time he makes it back, Zayn has reappeared, and slid in next to Harry as the two talk about acting.

“So, what kind of acting do you do, Harry?” Zayn takes a long pull of his beer, not noticing Harry’s bemused grin.

Louis sits next to Zayn, his eyebrows raised at Harry, who tries not to laugh.

“Films, mostly.” Harry accepts his drink, slurping at the straw.

“Oh, wonderful. Good on you, mate.” Zayn claps Harry on his back, making Louis giggle and Harry cough and sputter.

Louis wonders if he needs to intervene before Zayn continues, “So, like. How much do ya make on your films? I’ve got friends who act, but they try to live on 10 thousand a year. No life, really.”

Harry smiles around his straw. “On my last film, I made 12… million.”

Zayn’s eyes go wide, and he spills a little of his beer on his shirt before hastily wiping it away. “Oh.”

Liam and Niall, who had been whispering at their end of the table, turn to watch Zayn, looking quizzically at Louis. Zayn then stands, muttering something about finding a napkin, and Louis slides back to Harry.

“I hope I didn’t freak him out too much…” Harry trails off, his eyes trying to find Zayn’s lithe form in the crowd.

“He’s probably forgotten about it by now. Doesn’t hold onto anything too much.” Liam smiles at Harry, “Niall owes me 10 quid anyways. Thought Zayn would recognize you. Good thing I know him better.” Niall gruffly hands over the money while Louis wraps his hand around Harry’s under the table.

Harry’s cheeks turn a little red when Zayn finally makes his way back, worming his way to Liam’s side. Liam’s correct: Zayn laughs off his mistake, and proceeds to talk animatedly with Harry about art. Niall attempts to chat with the female bartender throughout the evening, as she brings them more rounds, the two couples laughing at the other end of the table about his failed flirting. Slowly, Louis starts to feel more normal; like the five of them were meant to be together like this, possibly in another life.

By the time they all say goodbye outside the pub, Louis’ nerves are back in full-force, leading Harry down through Portobello Road. Headlights flicker around the two, casting bright flashes of light and shadow across the pavement. It isn’t a largely busy night for the street; with bursts of crowds moving on the sidewalk, heading to their next destination without a passing glance for Harry.

Louis tries very hard not to constantly look at Harry, who seems to radiate cheerful energy about every topic their conversation falls into. Harry, wearing his sunglasses again, hair pulled into a bun, teeth shining in the dim streetlamps. Harry holds Louis’ hand easily, swinging their arms occasionally, and squeezing their fingers to emphasize specific phrases. They talk about everything from favorite books to first kisses, Louis laughing loudly when Harry describes his first kiss with a boy who had no control over his tongue.

It isn’t until they cross the street to bring Harry closer to Notting Hill Gate Underground that Louis first spots a man with a camera, staring at the two of them. He lets Harry finish his theory on why he believes heeled boots are the future of men’s fashion before squeezing his hand. Harry looks down as Louis leans up to whisper, “Hazza—there’s a guy at your ten with a big ass camera, staring at us.” Harry lets his eyes freeze on the pap before several things happen at once.

Six other people pop up in front of Louis, who had been leading Harry through the thicker crowds of people, causing him to stop suddenly. Harry slams into his back, their hand-hold breaking, and his arms wrap around Louis’ middle to keep them from falling. Louis feels like he can’t breathe; the air around them warmed uncomfortably with the throngs of people. Shouts echo on the street from the surrounding paps, pulling the Notting Hill crowds closer to Harry and Louis. Louis can’t even see; bright red spots flashing in his eyes, can only feel Harry behind him, pushing him forward, trying to break free from the photographs. Harry somehow gets his phone out, sunglasses back on the top of his head, and dials a number quickly as the two of them find a break in the crowd and lurch forward.

“C’mon!” Louis calls out behind him, reaching for Harry’s hand and finding empty air as the taller man runs up next to him, barking orders into a phone as they dash into the darkness.

The two go sprinting down a side street, paps right on their heels, camera flashes lighting the sidewalks. Louis’ lungs warm with the cool air, burning his throat as he and Harry dart into the twisting side streets. It isn’t until they reach a park that the two of them manage to lose the paps; Louis tugging Harry to his chest behind a large bush. Sweat slides down Louis’ hairline, dripping onto Harry’s shoulder, and Harry hesitantly lets his hands rest on Louis’ waist, his eyes wide, panting slightly. They both freeze as they hear voices drawing near, shouts of the paps still echoing in their ears. When nobody appears for a couple of charged moments, Louis feels Harry relax, their eyes finally meeting.

“Gotta make you work for our evening, Harold.” Louis lets himself smile, shivering as the sweat cools on his skin.

“Hm…” Harry looks down, his lips formed into a crooked grin, “Guess it was mostly worth it.”

“Mostly?” Louis tosses his hands over Harry’s on his hips, jutting his chin upwards, his eyes teasing.

Harry’s lips touch Louis’, warmth engulfing his body for a moment before Harry pulls away to whisper, “Much better.” They continue to kiss, Louis wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck, standing on his toes to get a better angle. Louis’ tongue teases at Harry’s lips, waiting until they fall open with hot breath. Harry’s hands grab down Louis’ body, reaching his ass and kneading the skinning jeans. They press together, Louis’ hips falling just below Harry’s, fitting together. It isn’t until Harry’s phone buzzes that Louis realizes that he’s sweating again.

“Car’s right outside the park. Managed to reach my assistant while running.” Harry leads Louis out to the street, his palms slightly sweating.

“Multitasker… good thing to know ‘bout.” Louis smiles as Harry opens the sleek black door, and they get inside, giving the driver his address.

All quiet in the car, Louis doesn’t move, feeling Harry drift closer, arms pressed together. “Sorry ‘bout everything. Should’ve been more careful.” Harry’s deep voice seems smaller in the confined space.

Louis turns to look at him, his eyes downcast at the leather seats, picking at the button on his shirt. “You’re probably the worst celebrity I’ve met, Harold. Aren’t you guys supposed to love the press?”

“Not when they ruin a great date.” Harry grimaces, eyes melancholy.

“Hey,” Louis touches Harry’s hand, stilling the movement, “I had a wonderful time. All ‘cause of you. The way you worm yourself into hearts. Endearing, really.”

Harry’s eyes move up, stopping at Louis’ lips. “So does this mean you’d consider seeing me again? After all that trouble?”

Louis slides his hand into Harry’s hair, feels him shift closer, “No trouble, babe.”

They kiss until the car stops at Louis’ street. And then keep kissing for a while longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the song lyrics at the beginning of the chapter are from Ed Sheeran's "Fall" which is off his newly released "5" album. 
> 
> I also listened to Miguel's "Coffee" and Mr. Probz's "Waves" while writing this chapter.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day after... in Harry's mind, mixed with some wisdom from the one and only Ed Sheeran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all know the drill -- read, lather, comment, rinse, and repeat. 
> 
> Thank you so much for all your support! Working on chapter 7 next... which should be a bit of a challenge, considering our boys are about to get a lot more physical. 
> 
> Again, thanks for everything!

_My demons are begging me to open up my mouth,_

_But it’s the devil that’s tryna hold me down_

Notifications. That’s all Harry sees when he wakes up the morning after his date with Louis. Before he can unlock his phone, Harry blearily sees his name bolded in notifications from countless newspapers and tabloids he follows. Not to mention the three texts from Louis, twenty from his publicist, three from his mum, and two missed calls from his manager. There’s even a voicemail from Ed, whom Harry hasn’t found time to visit while he’s been in London.

Avoiding the bright red notification dots on the apps, Harry calls Ed, sliding a hand through his hair and settling back into the brightly lit pillows, wishing he could fall back asleep. Sleep would get him much farther away from the headlines. His eyes wander around the cream hotel room, awash in a 6AM sunrise glow.

“Harry?” Ed sounds just as tired as he feels, and Harry can swear he hears another voice in the grainy electronic background.

“Hey Ed.” Harry’s voice cracks, and he tries to swallow, bile rising in the back of his throat without permission. Definitely won’t be looking at those tabloids for at least ten more minutes.

Ed sighs on the other line, “Really got yourself in a mess this time, mate.”

“Haven’t even looked at the headlines. Don’t have coffee.” Harry grabs another pillow from the wide expanse of the hotel bed, pulling it to his chest. He could possibly use a pillow as a shield from the prying public forces that await him in the outside world.

“Flat door’s open for when you decide to come over. If it’s soon, wanna pick me up a cuppa?”

Harry lets a smile move across his lips, feeling the corners of his mouth crack as he rasps, “Always for you, darling.”

Harry doesn’t look at his phone again until he’s in a shiny black car, zooming towards Ed’s flat with two grande coffees in cup holders. He had put on his favorite shirt, proudly proclaiming, “HOT ‘N HARD” on the back, and if he’s being honest with himself, Harry feels anything but confident. He hid behind his Ray-Bans, unwashed hair shoved into a bun, and legs pushed into jeans. The nice part of seeing Ed was the fact that neither of them had to try to put on their public personas around each other. The shitty fact was that Harry was fully expecting to be yelled at as soon as he closed the door behind him.

_SPOTTED: HARRY STYLES AND ‘MYSTERY MAN’. Mega-Star Harry Styles seen in Notting Hill with Friend. HARRY STYLES out of his Glass Closet... AGAIN. Notting Hill Flake: Harry Styles and Mysterious MALE “Friend” run from Paparazzi._

The list continues down, and Harry lets himself fall into the rabbit hole for a couple of moments until he feels tears start to well up in the corners of his eyes. He locks the phone, letting his hand rest on the dark leather seat. Harry tries to still his thoughts, head leaning back. His phone vibrates; another message from Louis brightening the screen. Harry scrolls through the earlier texts.

Hey, you. Sleep well after our midnight jog?

dunno if youre awake yet… but there are apparently stories about us ??

scratch that. There’s a lot of stories. And pics. Shit.

Let me know if you’re getting these texts—wanna make sure youre okay.

Harry isn’t quite sure how to respond. Of course he’s not okay, but he’s dealt with the press for more years than he can count. He knows how to put on a smile, swing his arm around another supermodel that management picks out for him, knows to change his phones regularly so his grindr profiles never leak. Louis hasn’t had to deal with the press, and Harry can’t figure out how to tell him that it isn’t even a question of being _okay_ , its whether he can put on his best mask and fake it for another day.

**Hey—im fine, going to hang with a buddy of mine today. Nobody at your house, right?**

And, to add a cherry on top, Harry now feels like shit for not checking on Louis first. He takes another sip of his coffee while waiting for a response, looking out the window as the driver pulls up at Ed’s flat.

Set back in a quiet corner of North London, Ed’s flat looked just as normal as the rest of the buildings on the street. Although it was considered quite posh, especially when compared to Ed’s first flat; that reeked of takeout thai and had loose dark floorboards. The tall brick building had an orange front door, which had put off the other neighbors on the street, but had made Ed smile as he walked up to the front for the first time with Harry. “Orange, just like me.” 

Just as he makes it to the door, glancing left and right to make sure no paps followed him, Harry gets a text back.

Nope, will let you know if they do… should i be worried?

Harry pauses, left hand raised to knock on the door, coffees balanced on his forearm, sunglasses starting to fall down the bridge of his nose. He inhales, tries to remember how to release his breath.

**don’t worry.**

Ed opens the door, startling Harry into juggling the coffee.

“Fuck!” the holder tips precariously, Ed grabbing onto one end and successfully saving their drinks.

“Mate, you’re more of a mess than I thought.” Ed smiles, pulling Harry into his flat, locking the door behind them with a small click.

Ed’s apartment was a mixture of modern lines and random furniture that seemed to appear from flea markets and antique sales from all over the world. The simplicity on the walls was cluttered with mismatched chairs and tables on the floor, a diverse conglomerate of style. Harry simply felt at home in the flat, preferring Ed’s eclectic style to the symmetry of hotels.

Ed settles them on his couch, Harry pulling a guitar pick from under himself before settling back in the worn leather with a small sigh. As he drinks from his coffee again, his eyes find the tabloids spread on the coffee table, all with grainy pictures of him and Louis, surrounded by paps, or running down the dark Notting Hill street.

“At least I put the sunglasses back on for the pictures.” Harry glances through one of the papers, eyes’ skimming over the reporter’s over usage of the words ‘mysterious man’ for Louis.

“Just tell me, “ Ed takes a breath as he swings his arm over the back of the couch, turning to face Harry, “What in holy hell you were thinking, going out with some guy in public, right as you’re in the spotlight for your new movie? You had to know that you were being watched…”

Harry isn’t listening as Ed trails off, his eyes landing on one picture of him and Louis, his hands wrapped around Louis’ waist, bodies pressed together. God, Louis was hot; his hair all fluffy and sweaty from the bar and paps that had surrounded him. He looked like he was made for pictures to be taken of him. His tattoo was shining from the v-neck, wrapping around delicate collarbones. Harry mentally chided himself for not licking those collarbones more…

“Harry.” Ed places his hand on his shoulder, pushing Harry from his reverie. “You should’ve been more careful.”

“You know what?” Harry leans away from his touch, tossing the paper onto the table and sitting up. He feels heat begin to rise in his belly, pushing up his neck and heating his cheeks. “I’m fucking done with lying to the public. Done it too long. I can’t handle management twisting my life anymore.” Before he blinks, Harry realizes he’s standing, hand shaking as he holds the coffee cup, tears starting to well in his eyes. All the furniture in the apartment turns to disassociated shapes, blurred by the tears.

Ed’s up and next to him, gently pushing him back into the couch again. “You know that isn’t what you’ve talked about. Your plan, remember? Get enough momentum as an actor, then come out? With someone you trust, love, have committed to?”

“Then management took over this whole ‘glass closet’ narrative, thinking it would make me feel better. I feel even more like a piece of shit.” Harry’s hands wind their way into his hair, unknotting and re-tying his bun. His voice is still too high, sounds like its coming from another person. Still quivering a little, Harry nudges into Ed’s side, legs folding underneath him. He tries to breathe again, Ed’s arms wrapped around, his flannel shirt scratchy underneath his skin.

“This boy… Louis, right?” Ed starts cautiously, treading water.

“Yeah.” Harry picks at a loose thread on his jeans.

“You’ve never really wanted to come out before. Like, you’ve had plenty of guys, content to follow your plan… and I’ve supported you, don’t get me wrong. But,” Ed’s sighing, hands rubbing on Harry’s arms, “You literally just met the guy, and now you’re all ready to face the world as the gay rainbow that you are.”

Harry giggles, sliding out of Ed’s arms and looking at him. “You’ve got to meet him, Ed. He’s just—“ Harry runs out of words, mouth open at Ed, “—just so calm. He takes everything in stride.”

“You like the bloke because he’s chill. Hell, I’m chill.” Ed laughs, standing and walking into the kitchen. Harry drifts after him, settling on a stool at the island. “I’ve got your special green tea here, since the coffee’s mostly cold.”

Harry rolls his eyes as he nods, feeling a grin slide onto his face. “If I go for guys that are chill, might as well be you. Aside from the horrible hand that fate has dealt, giving me a best mate who is everything I want… but is in fact, straight.” Ed’s laughing, pulling two mugs down from the cabinet. Harry continues, “I dunno, Ed. I feel like he’s someone who’ll stick around, whether I make movies or not. Doesn’t seem to be after the fame.”

Ed props his elbows on the other side of the island, face drawn closer to Harry’s. “Look. I’m trying really hard not to rain on your parade here. But it’s been such a short time, and the press is already ragging on you two. Seen you go through enough heartbreak to let you fall into it again without me sayin’ summat.”

“You should try a little harder. My umbrella for your rain is failing. Not to mention the parade would be absolutely fabulous.” Harry slides his hands across the island to meet Ed’s, feels more grounded when he’s touching someone.

Ed moves them back to the couch after he’s made the tea, tossing the cooking channel on the TV before speaking, “Jus’ give it a little more time. And fer god’s sake, stay away from the paps.”

Harry grumbles, pushes into Ed’s arms as they stare at the TV, his mind racing with the feeling of Louis’ lips ghosting over his own, juxtaposed with the grainy footage from the paps in front of him. It isn’t until an hour later, as Harry’s stomach begins to growl, that he checks his phone to find two more messages from Louis.

Look, ‘m not used to all of this publicity stuff but I know I want to see you again, if you’ll have me. i’ll get us a reservation at a proper restaurant or summat, so the paps wont find us. 

also, if this is all too much, just let me know. Would rather not make a fool of myself if you feel different. 

Harry glances over at Ed, who has fallen asleep on the couch, a slight snore spilling from his lips. He plays with his phone for a moment, pressing random buttons, not focusing on the screen. As another commercial pops onto the TV, he finally crafts a response.

**I’d love to—sorry I’ve been a right arse today; just been talkin through some stuff with Ed. It’s not too much, promise.**

A response comes back almost immediately.

…This wouldn’t happen to be _Ed._ As in the Ed you talked about with Niall? as in _the_ Ed Sheeran? 

Harry laughs, making fun of Louis as he texts back, causing Ed to wake up and smile sleepily at him. Harry can almost see Louis’ eyes lighting up with excitement.

“He does make ya happy.”

It’s just a statement, thrown out into the void without expectation of a response. Harry lets it settle in the air before looking back at Ed.

“Yeah. He does.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from Halsey's "Hold Me Down."


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our boys finally talk to each other, and in the process, get much closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I can say is a massive thank you to everyone who's still sticking around with me! 
> 
> Hopefully this chapter was worth the wait: most of it was written in a four hour span, but its taken me AGES to go through and edit, and putz around with all the words until I was finally content with the way it turned out. 
> 
> I also haven't written smut in forever, so don't hate me too much! :-)
> 
> Come and talk to me on tumblr at roguenauticals, with any questions or comments, would love to hear from all of you.

_So kiss me on the mouth and set me free,_

_But please don’t bite._

Louis twiddled his thumbs under the white tablecloth before adjusting his Stone Roses t-shirt. He sat in a dark corner of a sushi bar, most of his view of the restaurant obstructed by a well-placed fern, which the waitress had held back so he could slide into the chair. Harry texted him yesterday, with the address and the time to meet without much explanation, other than a plea to meet so he could apologize.

Louis certainly didn’t feel that Harry needed to say anything, although he wasn’t one to let go of what had happened the other night. He already had a couple of paps make their way into his store, probing for another story. Niall managed to keep them from finding Louis by shoving him under the front desk and chattering away until they decided to leave. But it wasn’t particularly Harry’s fault; he hadn’t been the one to call the paps to find them—or at least, that was what Louis hoped.

If he were being honest, he didn’t know what to think about Harry. They had been out once, after all, and it ended in semi-disaster. But over their texts… they had really spilled a lot of their memories, desires, truths… Louis hadn’t realized how attached he was until he didn’t hear from Harry until midmorning after their first date. And Louis never let his guard down with guys—he always was the one who broke hearts, because it would keep his own from breaking.

The candle on the table flickers as Louis sighs, wiping his fringe out of his eyes. He looked at the glass of prosecco that the waitress had brought at his request, wondering if he should start drinking before Harry arrived, in order to create an alcohol seal against this “apology”. They had been texting back and forth after the picture explosion, but Harry hadn’t seemed as energetic before, his open book sliding closed with a small but firm snap. Louis tries to keep his thoughts still, letting chatter around him move to a hum in the dim lighting.

“Hey,” Harry saunters up to the table, Louis rising to kiss him on the cheek, “Am I late?”

His own cheeks heating, Louis manages to stutter, “No—the underground got me over here quicker than I thought,” as he drops back into the chair, smiling at Harry’s blue plaid shirt. He was a chameleon; rocking the red carpet in a white suit one night, to looking like he could work on a farm the next. Louis bites the inside of his cheek as Harry glances at the menu, trying to keep his leg from bouncing.

“So,” Louis takes a long sip from his glass, “I took the liberty of ordering us some soy beans.”

A smile beams across the table. “How did ya know I love edamame?”

“Lucky guess.” His cheeks must look so red at this point, and Louis clears his throat, biting again. Harry had mentioned it once, back when they first started talking; the random fact had popped into Louis’ head once he saw the soybeans on the menu.

All is quiet between them for a moment, the table behind Harry’s ferns filling up with a group of guys, talking loudly. Harry reaches across the table, finding Louis’ knuckles with the softest graze of his fingertips. He feels a small spark light up his forearm, and his heart starts to beat a little faster. Louis would rather they just get this apology over with, and he feels himself start to sweat.

“You’re never this silent, even over text. What’s going on?” Harry’s green eyes look concerned, lips twisted down as he stares across the table.

A rush of air pushes out from Louis’ chest and he hurries to get through his speech, “Look, I know it got pretty messy the other day with those paps. And I’m trying so hard to understand what its like to hang out with a mega star like you,” pink appears at the top of Harry’s cheeks, and his eyes widen, “But I think before I get even more attached, I need to know if you’re as into me as I am with you.”

Harry’s mouth forms into an “O”, eyes still wide, and he places his hand over Louis’ before speaking, eyes dancing with the candlelight, “Lou, I—“

“Have we had a chance to look at the menu?” Their waitress appears at the edge of the table, fern leaves clinging to her white shirt as she looks expectantly between the two of them.

Louis opens his mouth to respond as Harry plasters a smile on his face, “Actually, I think we just need a couple of minutes,” he looks over to Louis, eyebrows raised in question. He nods mutely, breaking eye contact.

The movement at their table stills, and Louis tries to drown out the male voices from behind them, but their drunken conversation has reached new, higher decibels.

“So, have you lot seen this new guy Harry Styles is fucking?” A deep voice rings out over the chatter, causing the other guys at the table to stop talking and listen. Louis looks at Harry, his eyebrows furrowed, feeling his hands tighten. Harry rubs his fingertips over Louis’ knuckles, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth, and he winks.

“Honestly, they’re just fucking fags, the pair of them. Don’t get why everyone’s on board with this whole ‘gay’ thing.” Louis sees the speaker use air quotes to accentuate, his arms melding with the fern leaves. His lips tighten. Harry’s fingertips stop moving.

“Despite having an Oscar or whatever people care about,” another guy at the table pipes up, “Neither of them would know good pussy if it slapped them in the face.”

This causes uproarious laughter that echoes across the room, a waitress just having dropped more plates at their table scowls as she hurries away towards the kitchen behind them. Harry’s eyes look like they’re watering a little, but then he blinks, and they harden.

Louis finds himself standing, “Right. That’s it. Sorry,” He pulls the ferns back, the leaves snapping in the air as he steps around to face the table.

“Hey assholes.” Louis’ heart thumps wildly as five pairs of shocked, and then menacing eyes, turn to look at him. “You know that he’s a person, right? Deserves some respect, rather than you homophobes prattling on about it.”

One man stands; eyes level with Louis’ hairline, his chin jutted out to accentuate his centimeter of height over him. “And who’re you ‘sposed to be? His fucking brother?”

Louis feels the confidence slip away, and he blinks, losing a little of his fire. He takes a deep breath to start cursing the guy out of the restaurant. Harry appears behind him, mouth close to his ear, facing away from the table, “It’s okay, Lou. C’mon, lets get out of here.” He manages to guide a tense Louis from the table, heading to the door as the men return to laughing.

Louis tries to apologize as Harry whispers, “No, I really appreciate it. There was a time when I would stand up to them… Actually—“ Harry cuts himself off, wheeling around and letting go of Louis’ hand to walk back.

Louis manages to catch up to him just as he reaches the table. “Hi!”

Realization crosses all their faces. One man drops his chopsticks to the floor as the others immediately stop talking, and the one who tried to intimidate Louis stands shakily. Eyes wide, he begins to sputter. Harry cuts across him, his voice low and apologetic.

“Jus’ wanted to apologize for my friend. He doesn’t know any better. I’m sure you’re all lovely people, sure you all have dicks the size of raisins, have a goodnight!” Harry waves at them, and the man slumps back in his seat as Harry grabs Louis’ hand again, wheeling them out of the restaurant.

They make it out into the night, both of them giggling and clutching at each other. The chilly air swirls around them, the darkness beginning to smell like rain as headlights rip in and out of view. Harry holds onto Louis’ hand, and they walk the block down towards the Ritz. “I shouldn’t have done that—so stupid of me.” Harry’s still smiling, though, making Louis reply, “You were fabulous, just stunning. Best acting of your life, love.” Harry punches him slightly in the arm, “Not acting, ass.”

Harry giggles again, letting his head rest on Louis’ shoulder for a moment as he regains his normal breath. They’re standing under the lights of the Ritz arches, traffic whirling behind them, the dark trees of Green Park a backdrop behind Harry.

Harry shifts a little so he’s standing in front of Louis. “I need to say something,” he’s trailing his fingers over the t-shirt, loosening the fabric, and Louis’ nerve. “The other day when I texted you, after the pap explosion…” he smiles softly at Louis, eyes flickering to his lips.

“I was a right prat to not text you first, make sure you were okay. This isn’t the first time the media’s caught wind of my… excursions, and I’m used to people wanting to get as far away from me as possible, not closer. Or if they do get closer, it’s for the wrong reasons.” Harry releases a wry smile, eyes downcast.

Louis tries to understand, tries to contemplate how someone could let Harry out of their life as easily as deleting a contact.

“You surprised me.” Harry’s voice is stronger as he stares at Louis, “And I’m never completely sure of myself around you… but I know it makes me feel really good.” Louis can’t help but smile as he replies, “Most backwards apology I’ve ever heard, Haz.” Harry laughs, the wind tossing his unbuttoned shirt around his chest.

“So…” Harry’s voice winds out as his arms wrap around Louis’ waist, “Now that I can breathe, again… I’m just upstairs here.” He motions up to the Ritz, letting his arm wave a little in the wind.

Louis’ mouth quirks into a grin, and he allows Harry to pull him closer. “You don’t say.”

“Y—you want to come up?”

The question flies through the air, Louis’ hands coming to rest on Harry’s shoulders, slowly sliding over the fabric. Harry’s looking at him expectantly, lips slightly parted, his eyes flickering between Louis’ gaze and his mouth. Some of Harry’s curls have wound out from his bun, and blown into his face, causing Louis to push them back behind his ear. Harry shifts their bodies flush together as they touch, their faces moving ever so slightly closer.

“Well…” Louis clears his throat, which had gone dry rather quickly, “Who could say no to that?”

A toothy grin shines from Harry, and he whispers, “To answer your earlier question, ’m just as into you.” He brushes their lips together, a dry kiss, before grabbing Louis’ hand and walking them inside.

They make it up to the penthouse in record time; standing as close as possible in the elevator, Louis tracing his pinkie on Harry’s hand, barely containing his smile. It isn’t until the door opens with a small ding that Louis feels the knot of nerves at the base of his throat. He follows Harry down the long hallway, stumbling up a stair as they reach the dark bedroom.

Harry pauses by the loveseat, turning back to face Louis. With the curtains open, the flashing lights from London backlight Harry, dimming his face and lighting his silhouette. Their eyes meet in the dark, and before Louis can take a breath, he’s being pushed back on the door, slamming it shut. Harry brackets his arms on the door, framing Louis’ face as they kiss; his knee pushed between Louis’ spread legs. Heat surges down Louis’ spine, and his hands clutch onto Harry’s hips, pulling him close.

Harry’s lips move back, Louis trying to chase after them with a small noise of protest as he speaks “Is this okay?”

“I can’t believe you asked me that—“ Louis is indignant, pressing his lips back to Harry’s. He grabs his cheeks and opening their mouths with his tongue, flicking it back and forth between them, “—is that a good answer?”

Harry growls—fucking growls—and tugs Louis from the door, continuing to kiss him as they bump into chairs on their way to the bed. Louis, while trying to unbutton the rest of Harry’s shirt as he kisses and stumbles after him, toes off his shoes, his un-socked feet digging into the carpet for purchase as Harry whips the shirt off. Louis pushes him onto the bed, flinging his own t-shirt behind him; mouthing at Harry’s bare chest and stomach. His tongue flicks out at Harry’s butterfly tattoo, the laurels by his hips, the smooth expanse of skin between the two. Harry lets out a moan like a sigh, Louis feeling his stomach muscles release and contract as he starts to bite at the skin.

“Fuck.” Harry’s hands have migrated to Louis’ ass, first digging into his pockets, then sliding into his jeans, skin to skin. Louis bites down hard on Harry’s hip, causing him to buck up and pull them both fully onto the bed.

Their bare chests collide together, and Louis straddles Harry, moving his face up to his neck, sucking lightly. Harry’s hands grab for the front of Louis’ jeans, pushing them down and off his legs, their bodies sliding closer. Louis groans, his already hard dick pushed onto Harry’s jean-clad hard-on. He grinds down, relishing the drag of their bodies, their mouths together once again.

Hot breath glides into Louis’ mouth, Harry’s tongue teasing Louis’ as he reaches down to undo his own jeans, releasing his pants-less cock. Louis smirks, pulling back to look at Harry.

“Best apology I’ve ever received, Harold.”

Harry flushes, his skin pinking down his chest, the slight curve of his hard cock on his stomach making Louis mouth water. So much for his dry throat. He quirks one eyebrow at Harry as he slides down his chest, head settling between his thighs.

“May I?”

Harry laughs, a hand brushing through Louis’ hair, “Nicest way anyone’s asked to suck cock, darling.”

“I’m nothing if not polite.” And then he’s sinking down, sucking on the tip, his other hand coming to rest on Harry’s hip, fingers tapping on skin lightly.

Harry groans above him; his voice low, the echo reverberating in the dark room. Louis closes his eyes, focusing on the slow drag of his lips, pulling at Harry’s cock, while using his tongue to push on his slit. Harry’s hips chase after Louis’ mouth, and he presses his hand into Harry’s side before moving back down on his cock once again.

Louis slides his hand down Harry’s thigh, scratching his fingernails into the wiry hair, making Harry gasp and grip his hair tighter. He grins, pressure releasing off Harry for a moment before he regains his momentum, increasing the tightness of his mouth over his length.

“Thought I wuz the one that was ‘posed to apologize.” Harry’s hand has moved to Louis’ chin, lifting him up with one finger. Louis’ lips are bright pink, puffy on the inside, shining from saliva. Harry carefully turns Louis so his back lands on the bed, and pulls on his pants until they slide off, Louis’ cock slapping his stomach, hard and leaking at the head.

Harry licks his hand before sliding over Louis’ cock, twisting his wrist and fingers at the head while moving back down to the base. His other hand pulls at his balls, a tug that keeps the heat coiled at Louis’ spine. Louis tosses his arms behind his head, his mouth open and panting as he watches Harry, fascinated with his large hands moving up and down; a metronome rhythm. Harry’s eyes are bright, his brows tilted in concentration as he continues his hand job, pausing to kitten lick at the pre-come.

“I guess I, f-fuck—“ Louis cuts himself off as Harry sinks his mouth over his cock for a moment, enveloped in tight wet heat before his hands return and Harry looks up, “—should make you apologize more often.” Harry smiles, leaning forward to kiss Louis, both their mouths wet and open.

Harry nips on Louis’ bottom lip before pulling back, his hands releasing on his cock, leaving Louis feeling exposed as Harry reaches blindly to the nightstand. He pulls out a condom and a small bottle of lube as he turns back to Louis, sliding his knees flush with his hips.

They both pause, Harry staring down at Louis, letting his hand move to cup his cheek, eyes soft, mouth parted. “Is this okay?”

Louis surges up, catching Harry’s breath with his lips, “Very okay.”

Harry shudders, arms wrapped around his back, holding him closer, their cocks lined up, friction causing them both to moan. Louis smiles, continuing to speak, “Where do you want me, love?”

The question hangs heavy; Louis doesn’t know how to proceed. Normally, if Harry were just another guy off the street, he would take charge of the situation, flip Harry over and lavish attention, wanting his reaction more than chasing his own. But Harry isn’t another guy off the street. He’s a guy with a penthouse at the Ritz, with movie deals worth more than Louis’ entire living, with the option to have any man he could want. Or woman, for that matter. And for some reason, Louis is the one between his legs. So he stays quiet, concedes his usual modus operandi to let Harry decide.

Harry’s voice is small, unsure. “Could I?” he motions for Louis to turn over on his belly.

Louis’ response is instant. “Y—Yes, of course.”

He can’t understand why he’s relinquishing his finely tuned control, can’t understand why he’s so trusting of Harry. Louis’ got all these questions about them and if there even is a _them_ , when Harry might jet off tomorrow to act in another movie with some huge actor or director. And forget about Louis. But he’s slipping further into this arena of trust, like he’s known Harry for much longer than their reality. His brain is telling him to stop, take a breath, and stop trusting so easily.

But Louis flips over onto his stomach, and looks back at Harry.

“Please, Haz.”

And Harry sucks in a breath, uncaps the bottle of lube, pours some onto his fingers, and settles down out of view. Louis grabs at the comforter, pushing the silky fabric between his thumb and forefinger, as he feels Harry’s hot breath right on his hole. He releases tension in his lower back, rutting his hips in a small circle, a delicious drag on his cock, and sighs as Harry circles one finger around the muscle. Before he can take another breath, he pushes his finger inside, slowly moving up to the knuckle.

Louis lets out a high-pitched whine, knowing that it’s been far too long since he allowed someone to get this close to him. He feels wildly out of control, ricocheting down a highway in some sports car, the speedometer rising higher and higher. Harry adds more lube, and another finger, stretching Louis, trying to find his prostate, which he grazes a second later. Louis lets out a small yelp, rutting his hips further into the comforter, Harry cursing under his breath. “So fucking beautiful.”

Louis can’t keep still; pushes back onto Harry’s fingers, trying to fuck himself without much result, other than sweating and whining more.

“Right.” Harry’s pulled his fingers back, and fumbles across the bed for the condom, Louis letting his eyes squeeze shut, trying to find some release. He doesn’t wait too long, as Harry picks up his hips to turn him onto his back, a pillow tossed underneath for support. Harry leans over Louis, lips grazing his ear as he pulls Louis’ legs up to his shoulders.

“Is this okay?” He whispers, and before Louis can yell, “Yes, fucking yes!” Harry pushes inside, Louis biting Harry’s ear as he bottoms out.

Once again, the room stills, save for both of their harsh breathing. Their eyes meet, and Louis smiles, Harry’s dimple growing larger in response.

Harry moves first, pulling himself back before pushing in again, Louis feeling split in half, barely able to keep his eyes open. He remembers how to breathe in record time as Harry continues to thrust, his hips beginning to snap quickly in and out. All worries out the window, Louis bears down on Harry’s cock, his knuckles white on the comforter. Louis grits his teeth as Harry brushes against his prostate, “Faster.”

He’s gripping Louis’ legs so tightly that he can feel the bruises blossoming on his tense thighs. They’re both groaning, Harry in between breaths, and Louis’ higher pitches vibrating in the room. Harry bites his lip, holding his breath as he slams into Louis rapidly, sweat breaking across his forehead. And damn it all if that wasn’t the nicest looking sweat Louis has ever seen. He refocuses back on his cock just as Harry hits his prostate three times in a row, feeling a hot surge of energy pulse through his body.

“Fuck, Harry, I’m—“ and Louis can’t even get the words out as he comes, Harry pushing in once more before he follows him over the edge, his voice high as he replies, “Shit, Lou—“

Louis is shaking, aftershocks coursing through his body, and he can feel Harry quivering on top of him as he lets his legs fall onto the bed. Harry pulls out gently, ties and tosses the condom onto the floor before crawling up towards Louis. He’s still; glancing around for some sort of tissue to clean up, feeling awkward just lying on the bed with come splattered across his chest. Harry’s already beside him, wiping at his stomach with a Kleenex from the other nightstand.

“Well, you were very prepared. Knew you were gettin’ me into bed, or summat?”

Harry grins, pulling Louis’ arm around him, becoming the little spoon, “I am a very persuasive apologizer.”

Louis can feel himself drifting off, Harry’s body warm in front of him, and the darkness pulling his eyes closed. He knows they should talk, should go get food, or even get under the covers. He hears Harry sigh contentedly somewhere in the air before he falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song lyrics are from Troye Sivan's, "BITE" off his new album Blue Neighborhood, which everyone should go listen to!
> 
> I also was heavily influenced by Fatboy Slim's "Demons", José González's "Heartbeats", and Halsey's "Coming Down".


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some pillow talk, some tears, some tea, and always, even more rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If y'all thought I abandoned this, I promise you it's been on my mind since my last update... more than a year ago. No idea how many of you are still sticking around, but I still love this fic, I have every intention of finishing (hopefully within the coming weeks) and I'm back with some ideas for some more stuff in the VERY near future.
> 
> Your comments and support mean the WORLD to me, and I'm sorry it took so long for me to get back. I promise it won't be long again. You can always find me on tumblr at roguenauticals. 
> 
> Lots and Lots of Love.

_Some boys are sleeping; some boys are sleeping alone,_

_And some boys don’t know how to love._

_They don’t get what they want._

 

Light streamed into the suite; illuminating the white comforter spread over Louis. He squeezed his eyes tight, shrugging his shoulders even further into the blanket, rolling it up to his chin. He’s so warm; Harry bundled up right beside him, hair tickling the top of his nose. Louis’ right arm is asleep underneath Harry’s head, but he pretends not to notice, letting his eyes blink open slowly and glancing down at his sleeping form. 

The sun’s gently hitting Harry’s face, the morning stubble shading his chin, lips just upturned… Louis tries very hard not to smile, instead shifting slightly, so he can feel his shoulder relax and wiggle his fingers, pinpricks of electric shooting up his arm. Harry sniffs, his mouth yawning and eyes squeezing tighter before opening. 

“Fuck, sorry love—“ Louis whispers, ”—didn’t mean to wake you.”

Harry’s eyes land on him, green lightened by the sun streaking into the room. “t’s okay.” His voice is rough; Louis feels a spark shoot through his stomach as he replies, “hi.”

Harry closes his eyes again, shuffling even closer to Louis, and nuzzles his nose into his chest, tickling around his tattoos. Louis feels his eyes start to shift closed again, his stomach rumbling from underneath the covers. He pulls his arm tighter around Harry, content for another couple of soft moments. He hears some small murmurs rumbling from beneath the brown curls on his chest. 

“Hm?”

Harry turns back up to him with a small grin, eyes still half-open, “Want me to order us breakfast?”

“Love that. Seems like the movie star has both brains and beauty.” Louis can’t help his smile this time, as Harry rolls his eyes and leans away to grapple for the phone by the bed, the comforter pulling down to the lowest part of his back. Louis settles into the pillows as Harry softly talks to the person on the other line, his voice still deeply scratchy. He opens his eyes when he feels hands back on his chest, fingertips dancing around his collarbone, warmth pulsing into his skin. 

“So—dunno ‘bout you, but last night…” Harry trails off, eyes meeting Louis’, who exhales as he says, “Had a wonderful time. Incredible, really.”

Harry’s grin grows, and he leans down to press his lips to Louis’. 

They kiss for a minute, Louis’ arms wrapping around Harry, pulling him on top, pressing his tongue into Harry’s mouth. Their hips slot together, Harry slowly grinding into Louis, pulling a soft moan from his lips. Harry pulls back for a moment, whispering “fuck my breath,” before Louis shushes him, “don’t care, wanna —” and silencing his sound of mild protest. 

Warmth spreads from Louis’ lips down to his toes, his heart rapidly springing against his chest as he flips Harry, cradling the long curls back onto the pillow. An audible _woosh_ of air escapes Harry’s lips, eyebrows raised as he stares at Louis, hovering over his long splayed limbs. Harry’s eyes have gone dark, a blush dusting his cheeks, lips parted and starting to look puffy. The blush is spread down to the top of his collarbones and chest, the swallows meeting the red of his chest like they're flying into a sunset of tanned skin. 

Louis can’t help the small escape of, “fuck” before pressing his lips to Harry’s once more.Between one moment and the next, heat and sharp breaths echoing through the room, a bell sounds through the halls of the penthouse, the chimes dimly reverberating in the back of Louis’ ears. He pulls away from Harry’s lips, the other man chasing after him to press his mouth to Louis’ collarbone, softly sucking skin between his teeth.

“They’re… up here… they’re pretty quick about… food—“ Louis breaks off with a moan, Harry sucking harder, turning Louis over, distracting him enough so Harry can straddle his hips. 

Louis fists his hands into the sheets, Harry pressing on top of him, mouth latched to his clavicle, breaths moaning between sharp inhalations. Louis can’t breathe, hot sweat cooling on his skin, his mouth ajar as Harry continues his ministrations, hips gently rolling down and grinding into his own. Louis hears the bell again, like a mosquito buzzing in his ear. His sigh is cut off by a moan as Harry pulls away, his lips pushed on Louis’ neck, hot air causing goosebumps. 

“I’ll be—“ Harry leans back, his eyes blinking once, twice, then closing as he gently leans in, kissing Louis gently and whispering, “—righ’ back.”

With that, he leaps from the bed, grabbing a discarded pair of pants as he bounds out of the room, Louis’ laughter trailing his heels. Louis dozes in the bed, watching the dust particles swish by his vision in the light trailing in from behind the curtains, the far-off sounds of London waking up far below him from his spot in bed. He crosses his arms behind his head, relaxing further into the pillows, letting his eyes close, the heat that had built up in his stomach cooling. 

Louis reawakens to the bed dipping on his left side, Harry’s back turned to him, hearing plates shuffling on the breakfast cart. He pulls the sheet around the lower half of his body, cheeks pink at the thought of Harry walking in on him, completely naked. Not that he hadn’t seen… felt Louis last night. Louis leans over beside Harry and grabs a piece of toast that was precariously hanging from a plate. 

“Hey!” Harry exclaims, turning and grabbing Louis by the middle, laughter bubbling from his low voice, “I was being nice and making you a plate.”

Louis, munching on the toast, flutters his eyelashes at Harry. “Toast is fabulous darling. Really, best toast ever.”

Harry rolls his eyes, turning back around and grabbing a plate full of food, leaning back into the pillows, arm resting against Louis’. 

They eat in silence for a minute before Louis speaks. “How long ‘r ya here promoting this flick?”

“Jus’ for another week, then we’re off to Berlin for a short screening, and down to Rome, hitting Barcelona somewhere in there, back again in a month or so for a quick pit stop before the whole tour in America.” Harry rattles off the places, Louis’ mouth watering just thinking about all the cities Harry will see, what he could experience in all those countries. How he’ll probably stay in the hotel the whole time, conducting interviews.

“Hey well, that book on Spain. Very useful. Especially when you’re stuck in the countryside somewhere and need a reference photo…” Louis trails off, wiping the crumbs from his chin as he smiles at Harry, who has erupted back into giggles. 

“When I was in your store, couldn’t get my eyes to focus on any of those titles, wasn’t registerin’ the words in front of me. Could at least see the one I bought had pictures, so I could put it on a coffee table…”

“The coffee table might look worse with that book on it, honest.”

Harry laughs, “Was worth it to get you to ramble on about travel books. Were so upset I wouldn’t take your advice.”

“Fuck you. My pretentious thoughts on travel books make me the perfect salesman, I’ll have ya know. Loyal clients I have.” Louis places his hand on his chest, raising his chin and peering over at Harry, who returns his look with a wide smile. 

“Perfect salesman. Got me to buy a picture book on Spain.” Harry puts the plate back on the cart, leaning closer to Louis. 

“I do hope you never show anyone that book, babe.”

“I’ll tell everyone in LA where exactly I bought it… this great place right in Notting Hill… Down the street from this memorable flat with a bright blue door…” Harry’s lips are right in front of Louis’ again, tempting him to just move a little further forward. 

“I’ll put a big sign out in the front window at the shop — Harry Styles, actor, rumored musician, solid shag, all around incredible guy, shops for absolutely terrible picture books here.” Louis grins, his eyes meeting Harry’s before closing and molding his lips to Harry’s. Harry’s gone still, lips not moving with Louis’ and he pulls back. 

Louis shifts forward, almost falling into his chest, before regaining balance. 

“You know… we can’t tell anyone. ‘Bout last night…”

Harry trails off, running a hand over his lips. Louis feels his body go a little cold at the words, the action of wiping off saliva… Reminds him of past boys in uni; the boys on the football team who wanted a quick jerk off before a big game, get the jitters out before they walkout onto the pitch, all smiles and arms around their supposed girlfriends. _We can’t let anyone see._ Or the artsy types, the ones who didn’t subscribe to ‘labels,’ who would fuck and dump Louis off to the side when someone else would come in to model for their work. _You’re just so delicate, so beautiful… perfect to draw. But we can’t show this to anyone, you understand._

Nick, his one past serious boyfriend, the budding radio deejay with aspirations to host his own show. His first love. Remembers the dorm rendezvous when the roommates were out, brushed thighs when they were out at the pub, secret looks and smiles and jokes. _But I can’t come out, love. A gay radio host? Won’t happen for a while… you’re alright with this, right? It’ll happen, I promise._ And it did happen. With another guy on Nick’s arm. After he landed BBC Radio 1. Louis remembers crumpling the paper up when Nick made the front page — his eyes seeming to taunt him. 

Louis moves back from Harry, his brow furrowed and mouth tight. “Righ’— you’re not… you aren’t out yet. ‘Course this isn’t somethin’ I’d broadcast.”

“Louis… I just haven’t figured out how I’m—“

“You don’t have to explain to me. Believe me, I’ve heard this before.”

“No, I’m plannin’ on it, but my management is working on the right buildup… I’m tired, Louis.”

“We’re all tired, Harry. I’m tired of finding the same guy, over and over.”

Harry’s quiet, his eyes following Louis’ hands as he pushes hair out of his face.

“And its okay, its cool. You’re allowed to come out when you want to… its all your own pace. I’m not going to force you. Jesus. You’re like, this huge star. Canna ask you to do anything… fuck we’ve only known each other for a minute.” Louis scrubs his hands over his eyes, “But… I’ve been here before. I know this routine.” He looks over at Harry, his mouth turned into a frown, the sunlight cascading over his bedhead and skin. 

Louis breaks his gaze, eyes falling across the room, searching for his discarded clothes. He hikes the sheet across his hips, goes to stand, feels a hand on his arm. 

“I… Louis… I’m not —“ Harry sounds like he’s on the verge of pleading with him, and Louis cuts in.

“—look, Harry. I get it. I was a good fling, you’re not ready to come out, you’re a fucking movie star. I was just a stop on the road… I knew this wasn’t going to be… Don’t worry… I’m not gonna say anything. If it means that much to ya I can sign something… isn’t that what you guys do or—“

“No, jesus, no its…I wouldn’t ask—”

Louis continues to cut Harry off, “—Right so, I’ll be… going. You’ve probably got a million things to do anyways.”

He leans out from the bed, sheet wrapped around his waist, grabs his boxers and slings them onto his hips. His eyes don’t meet Harry’s as he moves around the bed, grabbing his jeans, shirt, picking up a stray shoe from a chair and dropping it in front of his feet.

Louis pulls his shirt over his head, jeans half on his hips, sliding his feet into his shoes, the piece of toast landing in the bottom of his stomach as he chances a look back at the bed. Harry’s still sitting up, watching Louis get dressed, the comforter pooled around his hips, hair poking out and cascading around his face. He looks like some ethereal angel, with a halo of sunlight streaming around his profile, but his eyes are glassy; devoid of the crinkle he had earlier, mouth set in a line. Blue meets green for a moment. Louis sighs, a hand pushing through his hair. 

“You — you don’t have to leave.” Harry’s voice cracks at the end. Louis feels rooted to the spot, staring at the movie star, in bed, waiting for the owner of a travel bookshop to tumble back into the sheets. His mind is yelling to walk out the door, to forget, to move on. 

“You see love, I really do. The longer I stay… I'll just end up doing the same thing I've done in the past. I can’t… I can’t go through this again.”

“I don’t want you to go.” Louis gazes at the earnest look crossing over Harry’s face, the plea hanging in the air. 

Louis holds the moment in his lungs for a second, breath caught in his throat. “Enjoy Berlin, Harry.”

And he turns, forces his feet to cross the bedroom, and walk forward, refusing to look back and see the tears start falling down Harry’s cheeks.

* * *

 

Time, just like before, passes in the same excruciatingly slow, methodical way. A metronome of days, mostly filled with Louis sitting behind the counter, people-watching through the large front winter. Initially, he day-dreams about a handsome man with long curly hair bursting through the door, proclaiming his love, just like in the movies — causing him to look up every few moments, just in case he were to miss something. Slowly, those dreams turn to barely looking up when the door chimes, knowing that the man isn’t going to appear again. 

He takes all of the different magazines and gossip columns about Harry and throws them out, one morning, heart pounding in his chest as he forces the paper into the waste bin. He stands outside the bookshop for a moment, looking at the waste bin, as if the paper is going to hop right back out and into his hands. A woman tosses her Starbucks cup in the trash. Louis walks back to his counter inside. Niall starts hiding the magazines, plastered with Harry’s face, in his bag whenever Louis comes by. 

He sits with Liam and Zayn at home, sharing joints with them until they force him out to another pub, another blind date waiting for him. “We’ve gotta get you outta the house, Lou. The men of London need you!” Zayn kept reminding Louis, as the three of them went on yet another couples date. Louis really does try to get along with the multitudes of dates that Zayn and Liam cobble together — the book editor who chews so loudly, the three of them start to lean back whenever the guy takes a bite of his meal, the video game designer who spends the whole two hours excitedly discussing the intimate differences between Gandalf the grey and Gandalf the white (Louis was never much of a Tolkien fan, he admits to the poor guy as they’re all awkwardly standing outside after the dinner), or the tall, dark, and brooding marketing coordinator of an accounting firm, who was a pretty fabulous date right up until he and Louis were walking out together, and he started to inform Louis of his habits in bed, many of which Louis hadn’t even heard about, nor even thought were possible for two people to do together. 

He’s sitting at a local cafe a couple of blocks away from the shop about a month later, sipping his tea while trying to avert his eyes from Zayn and Liam, who have decided that sucking face is much more important than breathing air. He glances out the window, ignoring the two, watching the sunlight flicker through the darkening clouds outside, more people wandering down the quiet Notting Hill streets than usual, basking and attempting to get some vitamin d before the rain comes down. An open book cradles his leg, one that Louis had picked up at Barnes and Noble of all places, intrigued by the author’s recounting of their time spent in the countryside of Spain. He hears Liam come up for air a couple of minutes later, and waits a second before deciding that it must be safe to look back over at his friends. 

A blush is fanning itself over Liam’s cheeks as he catches Louis side-eyeing the two of them, “Soz, Lou.”

“I see you’ve decided that sucking the oxygen out of Zayn’s lungs might not be the best idea…” Louis trails off, letting a smirk paint over his lips. 

Zayn snickers, maneuvering Liam on his leg and leaning over to grab his drink from the coffee table. “I dunno, he might only survive for a couple minutes before he needs to get his lips back on mine again.”

Louis shakes his head as Liam gently slaps Zayn’s shoulder, burying his head in the crook of the man’s neck, eyes flickering back over to Louis. 

“Do ya think you’re gonna go out with us tonight? We were gonna go over to that club, would love to introduce you to someone we met the other night…” Liam trails off hopefully, eyes going puppy-dog shaped. 

“I dunno guys, I might stay in—” Louis starts, only to be cut off by Zayn. 

“—Lou. Come out with us. I promise, this guy seems like he’s pretty chill. We haven’t forced you on anyone in at least a week.”

Louis considers for a moment, his mind wandering back to curly hair and early morning stubble and white sheets. “Starting to think I've been ruined for good, lads.”

He looks up, his eyes meeting two pairs of pitying faces. “You know what happens to mortals who get involved with the likes of gods, Lou.” Liam says, his mouth turned into a frown. 

Louis shakes out a laugh, grimacing at his now-lukewarm tea. “Stupid me. Regular boys who locked themselves in the closet weren’t enough. Had to go for one whose face is on every fuckin’ bus in London.”

“You know people have reasons for not being out, Lou.” Zayn’s frowning at Louis now, taking another sip of his drink. 

“God, I know. Jus’ wanna walk down the street, hand in hand with the guy I'm with… is all…” Louis trails off, taking the book off his leg and rising out of the chair, looking outside to see the clouds start to move in. He curses quietly, remembering his umbrella in the stand at home. 

“Think I’m gonna head back, before this storm hits.” Louis watches his two friends exchange a look.

Zayn tries one more plea, “Come with us tonight, Lou?” 

Thunder starts to grumble outside, the threat of rain drawing closer. 

“Fine. But no new guys. I’m just going out with my best mates. Wanna text Niall to join us?”

Liam claps, already reaching for his phone, “Zayn’s comin’ back to mine, we’ll meet you over there ‘round 9 and head out?” Louis nods as he starts to move towards the door, feeling Zayn’s hand wrap around his wrist. 

“Its gonna fade, Lou. Just give it some time, right?” He’s looking up at Louis, voice still on the edge of a plea. 

Louis contorts his face into a smile. “I know, Z. It’ll pass.”

He pulls the zipper of his grey hoodie up as he steps outside, starting to jog towards home, the book clutched to his chest as thunder continues grow louder. Other people are moving quickly down the street, taxis rushing by with tourists peering out the windows, watching the clouds grow darker. He feels some rain drops just hitting the top of his head as he ducks into his door, key jingling as he lets himself in. 

It’s warm inside, the rain picking up as Louis continues to the living room, tossing the book and his hoodie on the couch, and tossing on the tv to whatever football game happens to be on. He toes off his shoes, leaving him in a white tank and joggers. He makes his way back to the kitchen, pulling the kettle from the stove and filling it with water when he hears a sharp knock at the door. 

Louis pads over, kettle in hand as he opens the door, the cool rain breeze rushing over him as he finds an out-of-breath Harry on his doorstep, much shorter hair stuck in a black beanie, the beginnings of an afternoon shadow on his cheeks, his red henley soaked and clinging to his chest.

Louis sucks in a breath, clutching the kettle, blinking to make sure that he’s not just within a very cruel dream. A soft smile quickly crosses Harry’s face as the two look at each other, the rain pelting the sidewalk. 

“I… I know this… I don’t mean to intrude.” Harry’s stuttering, teeth chattering slightly, “I just—I’m looking for a place to lie low for a while, didn’t know anywhere else to go…”

Louis is still silent, trying to get his eyes from raking over Harry’s tanner skin from being in Italy and Spain, his shorter hair, the way the rain trickles from his throat to disappear beneath the henley. Harry deep voice resonates again, “… I’m sorry, this was stupid, I should just—“ he turns away from the door, looking back out in the rain. 

“Shit — no, you’re soaked, come… come inside.” Louis pushes himself up against the wall to make room for Harry to walk in, and looks back outside at the rain once more before closing the bright blue door. 


End file.
